


Demons Hiding in Our Shadows

by nuricurry



Category: Devilman: Crybaby
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuricurry/pseuds/nuricurry
Summary: Sometimes, everything just feels wrong. Disassociation is as frequent as his breath, and he struggles to feel like anything is real at all.Except Akira. Akira is always there, always real, and always what he wants.





	Demons Hiding in Our Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gravy_tape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravy_tape/gifts).



Sometimes, everything just feels wrong.  
  
His body doesn't feel like it belongs to him; it's as if somehow, it's too small, it's too constricting and suffocating and his skin feels so tight that it threatens to tear away from his bones at any moment. It feels as if there is entire worlds inside of him, vibrating through his blood, humming in the tips of his fingers and the pit of his stomach, making him feel very alive and as if he doesn't exist at all at the same time. He sits on his white couch, within his white walls-- _white white white it all has to be white, white is the only color he ever feels comfortable touching his skin_ \-- and just breathes, as stars streak across his vision and pounding fills his ears, until suddenly, it all stops, and his body doesn't feel so small anymore, his head doesn't throb and he can breathe without worrying that if he inhales too deeply something within him will shatter.  
  
It's worse ( _better? sometimes it feels better_ ) when he thinks about Akira.  
  
He'll be lying on his stomach, his face pressed into a pillow, and his mind will be racing with nothing but thoughts of him. The sharp angle of his jaw. The slight dip in his waist right above where his waistband rests. The wrinkle that appears on his nose when he wears that stupid lopsided grin. The heavy sound of his breathing as he rips apart another monster, and their blood soaks his hands.  
  
He's pressing his hips into the mattress before he even realizes it, he's jerking hard into his own hand as he recalls memories of Akira. Akira, with his shoulders broadening, his chest expanding, as he shifts between one form and another. Akira, his eyes like hot coals in the dark, scorching and dangerous but far too tempting to ignore. Akira, drenched in blood and shuddering, his face dripping with tears that he won't explain, despite the countless times that Ryo reminds him that demons don't feel anything, and he has no reason to cry.  
  
There's something, in the back of his mind, that pulls back at those images. The more he brings forth, the more that part tries to recoil, as if resisting the drawl, the temptation, of Akira. It's dangerous, that piece of his brain tells him. He's a threat, he's a liability, a flaw, and if he keeps reaching for him, he'll risk everything crumbling down around him. That much doesn't make sense, but, truthfully, so few of his thoughts lately make sense. He's stopped trying to explain them all, even to himself. He just lives and breathes and works, in between moments like this, where he allows himself to be consumed by nothing but Akira, one hand clenching his sheets while the other is roughly working himself off in an empty room.   
  
When he comes, it feels as if maybe the world is ending, and all he wants is Akira there with him, and no one else. Akira, who is his, only his, all his, because he is the only one that deserves him, he's the only one that can ever give him everything that he could want.

  
And why does he think that? As he rolls over on his bed, and looks up at the ceiling-- _white, just like everything else_ \-- he wonders where those thoughts come from. As his body continues to buzz with a need strangely not yet satisfied, he asks himself: _what is it I want to give Akira?_ Is it money? Is it power? Or, is it just himself, the truly priceless and irreplaceable Ryo Asuka, that feels so large in his little body, but still not big enough to fill up the world, and be everything that Akira needs.  
  
But he should be. And he will be. Because Akira isn't just anybody, he's his, and he will find a way to make sure that he never slips through his fingers.

  



End file.
